


Circle Mages

by orphicsheep



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Death Fix, Circle of Magi, First Love, Harrowing, M/M, Mage Rights, Pre-Awakening, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphicsheep/pseuds/orphicsheep
Summary: Anders, already a seasoned escapologist, falls in love with another apprentice and wonders if he's finally found something more important to him than freedom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hello, welcome to my feeble attempt at a young! Anders/Karl circle mage origin story, because I just... need them... to be happy. It's important. Haven't finished it yet but it won't be very long, maybe four chapters altogether?)

"Anders, what are you doing?" The Senior Enchanter snapped.

Anders blinked a few times before raising his head up from his folded arms and opened books.

"Oh, nothing," he answered dully, stifling a yawn.

"That's just the problem! You should be taking notes, not sleeping!"

"I wasn't sleeping! I was... thinking."

"Daydreaming with get you nowhere. It is actions that count in this life, not ideas."

Pleased with himself, and his trite little adage, the Enchanter turned his back on Anders and marched blithely back to his plinth at the front of the room. Anders pulled a face, mimicking the Enchanter telling him off, and the boy a row up, to his right, broke out into laughter. He was a good student, who always paid attention and never started anything. The Enchanter's 'golden boy.' Yet Anders had succeeded in making the stern, serious golden boy laugh! A great success. The boy, a year or two older than him, turned away and ran a hand over his ear and through his hair, self-consciously. He did that a lot. Anders smiled, watching him fuss to find his place in his book as the Enchanter continued his lecture. People-watching was one of Anders' favourite hobbies. You were not allowed real hobbies in the Circle. He had wanted so badly to learn an instrument, or how to play a sport, to do something, anything, to remind him of what life was like on the outside... but all he had were books and herbs. He often had his head in a book, but while his fellow students were more concerned with academia and mastering the 'arcane arts' they could seldom use, having little cause to heal or fight anything in the Circle, he would read novels smuggled in from outside. The actual magic, mastering spells and learning rituals, came easily to him. He did not see the point in paying attention during class. He did not care about the logistics, or the history behind it, as long as a spell worked it worked. His approach was intuitive, not logical. Magic was so much a part of him he found it easy to call up, even when he had muddled the words to an incantation or forgotten the meaning of a rune. Even without a staff, he could easily summon up magic from a deep well of inner mana at the snap of his fingers. Sometimes, without even trying, it danced and sparked between his fingers, and made him shiver, the electricity longing to be free just as much as he did.

"Karl Thekla, would you please explain this?" The Senior Enchanter asked, pointing to a rune he had drawn on the board.

Karl raised his head, stammered out some half-hearted reply, then squinted his eyes, scanning his memory for the answer. He knew the answer, he always knew the answer; but he was shy. He hated being called on. Anyone could see he hated being called on, and having to stand up and speak or perform a spell in front of the whole class, all eyes on him. Anyone but the Senior Enchanter, it seemed. He was a bit of a sadist. He liked making the apprentices nervous.

Anders watched intently. _Karl, Karl Thekla._ They had not spoken more than a word or two to each other since Anders first arrived at the Circle, but he had received him warmly after his last escape attempt. He was the only one who did welcome him back, so he stood out in Anders' memory. He had brought him food and a cloak to keep warm when he was trapped in solitary confinement. He hadn't said anything, simply left them there. Anders pretended to be asleep when he came, so he could watch him out of the corner of his eye linger at the door. Anders did not even know his name then, but he committed his face to memory, and was happy to learn they shared a few classes together. Now he let it roll around his mind. _Karl, Karl Thekla._ He was not intuitive, he was all reason and logic. He always knew the words to every incantation, the meaning of every rune, the exact formula needed for each potion an Enchanter asked him to prepare. He was too rehearsed, too serious, following every rule. So why did he give up half his meal, and his warm cloak, to a perfect stranger? There had to be a reason. No one did anything without a reason. Maybe Anders reminded him of someone. Maybe it was just... envy, admiration, that someone had tried to escape, and nearly succeeded! Anders found that theory hard to support. Karl was a better student and a better mage, older by a year or two and certainly wiser, more studious, and highly respected by his peers and enchanters alike. He would go through his harrowing soon enough, and earn his rightful place among the enchanters.

What did he have to be envious of? Anders was nobody compared to him, just another apprentice who did not stand a hope of passing his harrowing. The Templars were just biding their time, licking their lips in anticipation for the day they could run their sword through him and say a demon made them do it. Maker forgive him, but he hated the bastards, every last one. He had heard too many stories not to hate them. Karl, of course, got on with them. He was always so friendly and polite; he got on with everyone! And yet he always sat alone. A strange case, this Thekla. 

He could not hear a single word the Enchanter said. He was much too distracted by Karl. He watched his lips, a faint smile playing across his own. The good, well-behaved little apprentice liked his cheap gag. What if he tried a better one? A more daring one? He tore off a bit of parchment and wadded it up, then threw it at Karl's shoulder so he would turn to look at him. He did turn, and looked a bit put out. Anders pointed to the Enchanter, who had his back turned to them, and whispered a few words under his breath, hand stretched out in front of him, back curved and head low. A trail of frost raced down the corridor and up his back, encasing him in frost for only a few seconds before the Senior Enchanter easily shook off the weak enchantment and lost his temper. 

"Who did that?!" He snapped, twirling around to face the crowd of young mages who erupted into gleeful laughter. All... except Karl, who looked very serious, and refused to meet Anders' eyes. Anders frowned and slumped forward, resting his chin in his folded arms. What had he done wrong this time? He had only wanted to make him laugh!

The bells rung signaling it was time for the apprentices to be dismissed for lunch. Anders slowly stacked up his books and trudged towards the door, evading as best he could the Senior Enchanter's watchful eye. He suspected him, yes, but he would not say anything until he had proof. In the corridor outside Anders was stopped by a light tap on the shoulder. He swiveled around, to see Karl standing before him. He may have been a little older, but of the two, Anders was still the taller. He looked angry. Anders gave him his best smile, hoping to defuse the situation.

"What did you do that for?!" Karl hissed in a low voice. As if anyone was listening. As if anyone cared.

"I wanted you to see. I did it for you," Anders answered simply, smile faltering. He had wanted to talk to him for some time now, but not like this. He had been working up the courage to talk to Karl for several weeks, but none of the conversations he had rehearsed in his head went like this. He had never seen Karl angry before. It caught him off guard.

"For me?! You wanted to get us both thrown into solitary?!" He snapped in reply.

"I wouldn't let them blame you! It was my idea," Anders insisted. "I would have taken the blame." He was used to getting reprimanded, only it was usually by Enchanters or Templars. He did not mind as much when they reprimanded him, even when it was for something he did not do. Every time the Templers interrogated him, shoving him around to remind him of his place, was a time some other mage got away scotch free. That was his reasoning, anyway. He could not understand Karl's anger. 

"You haven't passed your Harrowing yet, and already have too many marks against your name. You have to be more careful in future," Karl chided. "Next time you might not get let off so easy."

Did he really think one year in solitary confinement was 'easy'? Anders wondered. He simply gazed at him, agape.

"How do you know so much about me? Are you a member of my fan club, or just one of the Enchanter's spies?"

"Everyone knows about you. 'Anders the Infamous Renegade,' who ran away six—"

"Seven," Anders corrected.

"Seven times," Karl echoed. He could not hide the admiration from his voice. "I'm Karl Thekla by the way."

He offered his hand. Anders shook it, nervously, half afraid he would mess that up, too.

"Anders. Just... Anders." He replied—but he knew that already, didn't he? He had just used his name! 

"Well, ‘Just Anders’... if you dine with me tonight, I might forgive you."

"For what?" He asked, genuinely mystified. Nothing today had gone as expected, and he was still confused.

"For nearly getting yourself locked up!"

Anders shot him a winning smile, amber eyes beaming. He always tried to maintain a sunny disposition. It was part of his charm.

"You're on. See you tonight!" He said, before racing off to his next lesson, this time with Wynne. It was the only class he truly excelled in. He may not have been the best apprentice, but he had a knack for healing, and Wynne was always nicer to him than the other Enchanters. She said he had 'promise,' if he could only learn to keep quiet, pay attention, and stop wasting all his time chasing girls and getting in fights.

***

That night over dinner they talked about the Circle, and the world outside of it. Anders went on a tangent about the injustice mages faced here, and, in a low voice, because he knew it was dangerous to air such thoughts out loud, admitted to envying the freedom mages had in Tevinter. Karl listened attentively to all of this, admiring Anders passion, even though it sometimes concerned him. He had been forced to join the Circle at a very young age, and had no real memory of the world beyond it, but he longed to know more, and enjoyed Anders stories. Many more nights followed, and they became fast friends. Karl helped Anders learn spells, memorize runes, and mix herbs, and Anders found himself, quite naturally, confiding in him, in a way he could not confide in other apprentices. Karl was kind, clever, and understanding, and never judged or criticized him, the way the others did. He even showed Karl the pillow hand-embroidered by his mother, the one thing he had managed to save when the Templars came for him to remind him of his family, half expecting he would laugh—but he did not laugh. He understood. Since he had been taken from his parents before he got to know them, his parting had not been as difficult. He had spent nearly his whole life in the Circle, so had no home to be sick for. But he understood the importance of having a family and a home from books and stories. It was something he had always envied. He dreamed of the day he might have a home and family of his own—even knowing it was impossible, and mages were not allowed such things. Still... it was a nice dream, and comforted him when he was feeling lonely. His heart went out to all those mages who had once had families and homes, but lost them. When Anders told him how cruelly his father had cast him aside, even when his mother tried to protect him... it had broken his heart. It was the first time he had ever seen Anders cry.

Karl changed Anders, without meaning to, without trying. He became more studious and more patient. He found himself enjoying Circle life more than he ever had before—although he still dreamed of escape, he had finally found a friend who made living in the Circle tolerable. He had friends before, people he called friends, but in reality they were only casual acquaintances, or girls he had flings with, no one he trusted implicitly, no one he really cared about. He wanted to be a better mage, and a better person, because of Karl. Karl seemed changed, too. He was less stern, less sombre, he would smile and laugh, even occasionally make a joke—although jokes did not come naturally to him, the way they came to Anders. Still, he seemed... happy, and Anders was happier knowing Karl was happy. It seemed a simple enough kind of alchemy, but it baffled Anders just how much he wanted to make Karl happy. He could not think, for the life of him, why it mattered so much. He had never placed much stock in what people thought of him before. Perhaps it was because Karl had become a kind of mentor to him. That did not explain why he could not stop staring at him though, or why he daydreamed about running a hand through his luscious hair, but... as long as they were together, what did it matter? 

"You have been doing a lot of reading over break, I see!" Karl said one day, when they were in the apprentice chambers.

"Uhm, yes..." Anders mumbled in answer, distracted. He had one of his textbooks open in his lap and was examining it, deep in thought. He was lying in bed on the top bunk. It was the middle of the day and the chambers were, thankfully, largely deserted, with most of the apprentices either in classes, in the library, the common room, or the dining hall. Karl picked up one of the books and flipped to a random page, read a few lines, then burst into laughter.

"What? What is it?" Anders asked, fidgeting uncomfortably. He knew better than to expect privacy, the way apprentices lived, but he still felt scalded by hot coals whenever someone went through his things without his permission—even Karl. Especially Karl.

"You've been reading cheap romance novels all summer!"

"They're adventure stories!" Anders exclaimed, defensively.

"Well, they aren't high literature!" Karl answered with a smile. He kept on reading, a particular paragraph catching his eye, and more laughter ensued. Anders rolled his eyes, and leaned back against his pillow, arms crossed.

"Do you have a sweetheart?" He asked, suddenly. For some reason, it was a question he had never asked him before. They spent so much of their time together, it seemed unlikely that Karl had a secret girlfriend hidden away somewhere, but considering the restrictive nature of Circle-life, he could not rule out the possibility that Karl was simply better at keeping secrets than him. Karl recoiled slightly, and forgot about the book in his hands. He let it fall closed, losing his page. The question was unexpected. He shook his head. 

"No. Do you?"

Anders smirked.

"Certainly not! Sweethearts are strictly forbidden! But I wouldn't mind having a girl of my own, to take out..." He let the words drift into space and expire, like flakes of snow. The sunlight shone in, hot and bright, through the high windows, illuminating half of the dusty, cramped apprentice quarters, while casting the rest in thick shadows.

"Like the ones in your novels?" Karl asked, forcing a smile. To his credit, the damsels in his adventure stories were hardly helpless... some were pirates, or knight-commanders... but the plots seemed, from the few scraps he had glossed over, typically predictable. Girl meets boy, a dragon or ogre is defeated, their clothes fall off, an evil suitor or guardian is vanquished, the happy couple ride off into the sunset on a griffon, or embark on a life of crime and adventure on the high seas, etc, etc... which is to say, they seemed charmingly quaint reading material for a notorious renegade mage. It was unexpected, and despite his teasing, it just made Karl like him more to know deep down he was a bit of a hopeless romantic.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about those books!" Anders growled, grasping firmly the neck of Karl's robes and dragging him closer to the bed, until Karl raised his hands, signifying surrender.

"You have my word!" He promised.

Anders loosened his hold, nodding faintly, but did not let go. He searched Karl's eyes expectantly, but said nothing. He had never been so close to him before. It was strangely thrilling. A tremor wound its way up his arms and down his spine. It made him shiver, like a lightning spell.

"Anders," Karl supplied, gently, willing him to let go. Anders, suddenly realising where they were and what was going on, released his hold.

He was doing it again. He was staring at Karl. He was watching his lips and hanging on his every word. Why? It was not the books themselves he was embarrassed of. His reading material was extremely tame, compared to some of the filthy scrolls he had seen work their way through the apprentice halls. They were a bit sappy, yes, a bit too sentimental, for someone who wanted to look tough and play the rebel, but Anders never pretended to be unfeeling. Who cared if he liked romances? That was not why he was embarrassed. He was embarrassed because, ever since he met Karl, he cast Karl as the dashing hero who might save him. They knew plenty of girls in the Circle, girls he had tried in the past to impress, but Anders felt a flush of jealousy whenever he imagined anyone else standing by his side or… or in his arms... when Karl shirked their offers to spend time with him, Anders was so happy! So relieved! He thought it was because he was jealous of them, because he wanted those girls himself, but they did not matter, not really. It was never about them.

"It wouldn't be so bad, would it? To have a sweetheart, I mean. Have you ever been in love?" Anders asked, tentatively. He feigned disinterest, as if he had no personal investment in Karl's answer, and was just talking for the sake of talking. He was always talking. Karl guessed that, too, was a product of confinement—a fear of silence, a fear of being alone, an unhealthy attachment to that ragged flea-ridden mouser he loved so much... it was all the same. He just needed, more than anything, a friend. Karl was determined to be that for him, when no one else stepped up for the job. He had never expected to enjoy it so much. He had never expected to... but that was not what Anders asked him.

"Mages aren't allowed to fall in love," Karl answered automatically. It was what they were all were trained to believe. It was the silent law they were all expected to obey. No falling in love, no settling down, no children, no pets, no more private property then you could fit inside a small chest, no demons, and certainly no feelings. The Chantry expected too much of the mages they kept locked up in the tower, if they expected them to forget their humanity the moment they stepped foot inside. It was their humanity, their hearts, which kept them from turning to demons in the first place—but the Chantry was not yet willing to accept the reality that mages had hearts. That made them harder to fear.

"Right! Yes! Strictly forbidden!" Anders was quick to reply. "But we're not allowed to leave the tower either, and I have. It's nice out there in the world. They never tell you how nice it is, to sleep beneath the stars, or go for a swim, or climb a mountain. They're afraid you might be tempted. Have you never thought... it might not be the same, with other things which are forbidden?" Anders asked, gazing intently up at Karl now, trying to gauge his reaction. Karl had never seen him look so serious before, even when he was grappling with Templars. He was beginning to suspect his questions were not purely hypothetical. He furrowed his brows, cast back his mind, tried to guess which girl it was this week who had caught his eye.

"If you're lonely, I'm sure you can find a nice girl to spend five or ten minutes in a wardrobe with,” he suggested.

"That's not love, and you know it!" Anders snapped, suddenly irritable.

"Do I?" Karl echoed with a bemused smile. "It was good enough for you before. What's changed?"

Anders frowned, looked away. He did not like the way Karl was looking at him, with his head tilted to one side, and his eyes shining so invitingly. He whet his lips. He was afraid. He wanted to say: _You! You have changed me!_ But he was too afraid. Why him? Why now? He had never felt this way about anyone before. The fact it was another boy who made his heart race and left him tongue tied made it somehow... worse. He wished a well-placed comet would fall from the skies and strike him down. He wished Karl would make this easier for him. The only person in the tower he could ask for help was the one person he could not go to, because he was the problem. If he had never met Karl, if he had never talked to him, none of this would have happened. He would have left the tower by now, and been half-way to Tevinter and freedom, with no reason to look back at what he was leaving behind, with nothing at all to tie him here.

"Nothing! It's just these books, putting ideas into my head. Have you never wanted to run away, get married, raise a family of little apostates?"

If there was a perfect time to tell him, it was right then, but the opportunity came and went, and Anders felt strangely relieved that he had managed to protect his little secret as he watched the opportunity fly by him. Karl shook his head.

"No. I don't dream about impossible things," he answered after a moment’s hesitation. Anders bit his lip and nodded, forcing back a flood of emotion that threatened to turn into tears if left unchecked. He put on a brave smile, but looked away, not wanting Karl to see. Then Karl covered his hand, gently. Anders tensed, and looked up at him.

"What’s brought this on? You've met someone, haven't you?" Karl pressed. This is how friends talk, isn't it? Anders had so few real friends. There were other apprentices he knew, socially, but Anders had always been terrified of putting down roots. Never expecting to stay long in the Circle, he had always kept the other apprentices at arms reach. He might socialize, yes, but... he never let them get close. He never opened up to anyone the way he opened up to Karl. He knew how dangerous it would be. His eyes always watched the door. He knew, one day, he would be free. It felt cruel, making friends, getting attached, when you plan to flee the tower in a few weeks and never look back. So what was happening to him now? Maybe it was only friendship, and nothing more. Friends enjoy spending time together, talking, laughing, making jokes, it was all... nice. But that did not explain why his heart raced whenever Karl touched him, and the magnetic pull between them which felt just as electric as a lightning spell. Did Karl feel it too? Or was Anders wasting away for nothing?

"Aren't you going to tell me who the lucky girl is?" Karl went on, confused by Anders' wide-eyed silence.

"There isn't any girl," he snapped, indignantly. Then, more softly, in a quiet voice: "It's a boy, actually."

"A boy? Oh, you are full of surprises!" Karl repeated more loudly, all smiles. "Are you going to tell me his name, or make me guess?" He moved his hand away from Anders, whose breathing evened out. Now it was the lie—which was not entirely a lie—which made his heart race. 

"Karl, I..."

"Yes?"

"He's in our herbalism class."

"You are making me guess! Well I'll need more than that to go on, there must be thirty apprentices in that class!"

"You don't think... it's strange?"

"What, that you have feelings? A little."

"That it's a boy."

"Why would you shy away from loving someone just because they're like you?"

Anders went quiet for a few moments after that. It was not the reply he expected. 

"He has brown hair, and dark eyes, and gets top marks in every exam," Anders supplied, purposefully vague.

"That could be anyone!" Karl sighed, defeated. 

_He's also... the kindest mage I have ever met. He has so much power at his fingertips he could shake all of Thedas, topple cities, or raise mountains, if he wanted to, if he really tried... he has so much power it terrifies me, sometimes... and yet he still wastes several hours a week giving lessons to a useless, idle, good-for-nothing fool like me,_ he thought, but resolved to keep those thoughts to himself. He just admired Karl, that was all. There was no reason to throw a word like 'love' around, even jokingly, when he was just happy to have a friend.

Anders abruptly changed the subject, and everything soon returned to normal. Anders never mentioned his mysterious crush again. When Karl did, eventually, prod him about it, Anders shot back that he was pulling his leg. He _actually_ had his eye on a 'distinguished older woman,' one of the Enchanters—although barely out of her apprenticeship, and only a few years older than him, he knew she was a safe choice, because she would not waste her time with an apprentice, but he did not look strange pining after a pretty young woman who was more experienced than the average apprentice, even if she was 'off-limits.' The fact he did not really care about her, and the ridiculousness of the pretense, did not occur to him. He just... did not have his eye on anyone in particular, he told himself. He had bigger things to think about—such as his next escape attempt. Only... he had not given that much serious though, either, since Karl entered the picture. Karl was helping him with his studies, which he was actually beginning to take seriously. He had even coaxed Karl into giving him a few magic lessons on the sly. Karl was a good student who always played by the rules, but he did like his solitude, and had all sorts of favourite hiding places, little alcoves where he could evade the eyes of Enchanters and Templars alike, and be left alone. He told Anders about them, and suggested one such alcove might be the perfect place for their next magic lesson—if he wasn't afraid of heights. Anders could not have said 'yes' more quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Karl? Where are you?" Anders called out in a tremulous voice. He had never been to this section of the Tower before, it was usually barred off to apprentices, but Karl told him when the Templars changed guards and took breaks, so he could slip past them at the right moment. Now he was leaning out of the window and giving the balcony a doubtful look. When Karl had asked if was afraid of heights, he had confidently said 'no,' but now... he was beginning to regret saying that. He had never been stood outside, on a ledge, this high up before. Lake Calenhad stretched out below them, blue, mesmerizing, and deep, but so high up... there was no way you would survive the fall. Anders kept close to the wall, not wanting to push his luck and take any unnecessary risks for the sake of a pretty view.

"Shh! Over here. Be quiet. Do you want to get us both caught?!"

Karl's voice! His confidence returned to him. His heart leapt. He stepped out through the window and onto the balcony, and once he caught sight of Karl, sitting on the floor of the balcony with his back against the wall, he raced to his side, than sat down beside him. Karl passed him a flask of... something. Anders drank it, then passed it back. It tasted terrible, and burned his throat, but he did not care, convinced it would keep the cold away. The Senior Enchanters were the only people in the Circle who had anything decent to drink or eat, and they hoarded it like a dragon hoards gold. Anders almost envied the ignorance of apprentices who had spent their entire lives in the Circle; at least they did not know what they were missing. He fondly remembered one of his first escape attempts. He got as far Redcliffe, walked into the nearest tavern, drank himself into oblivion, and happily crooned sea shanties as the Templars carted him away.

"I checked the halls. There are no Templars," Anders reassured him. Karl inspected him closely, looking over his woolen robes, worn boots, the thin cloak tied around his shoulders. His hair was in disarray. Anders' smile faltered. Karl nodded, to show he had heard, then looked away, casting an eye over the sky above them. The Sun was setting and had painted the sky a myriad of kaleidoscopic colours. It must have been beautiful—but Anders' was not looking at the sky. He was still looking at Karl expectantly.

"Did you check for Enchanters, too?" Karl asked.

"No, but I think we're safe. For now."

"Did you bring the book I asked for?"

Anders checked his robes, and found the tome where he had left it, hitched to his belt. He unclasped it, took it in hand, and offered it to Karl.

"Yes, Ser! Here it is."

Karl took the tome from him and inspected it, brushing off the cover.

"Why is it covered in cat hair?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, sorry, that's my cloak... when I was in solitary I made friends with the cat, Mr Wiggams... I still feed him, and look after him, whenever I get the chance. He's an excellent mouser." He had never told anyone about that cat, it was his special secret. He was afraid if anyone knew how fond he was of that cat they might take Mr Wiggams away from him. Mages were not allowed to care about things. If the Chantry knew, they would take them away. Heaven forbid any mage was truly happy.

Karl flipped through a few pages, skimming each one as it came along, until he eventually found the page he wanted.

"I found it! Here's the spell I wanted to show you," he said, opening it wide and blowing off a bit of dust. He pointed to the spell and held it up so Anders could see.

"Just be careful! If this place goes up in smoke, I'm the one who's getting solitary," Anders cautioned. _If the Templars saw us like this, alone, practicing magic, I would be sent back to solitary,_ he added mentally, but that was a grim thought, and they had so little time alone together he did not want to waste a second of it.

"It's not dangerous, don't worry," Karl assured him.

"All magic is dangerous, or can be. Irving taught us that. We are all of us... dangerous." 

Karl went silent for a long moment and gave Anders a sympathetic look.

"Magic isn't... dangerous, on its own, and neither are you, Anders." He reached out and placed a hand on Anders' shoulders, turning to face him. Anders trembled. "Don't believe them. You are beautiful. Your magic... makes you beautiful. It doesn't make you a monster. That's just a lie they tell us, because they're afraid of our power, and jealous of it. They want us to live in fear of knowledge, because—"

"Knowledge is power," Anders supplied, meeting his gaze and holding it.

"You _were_ listening!" 

A smile played across his lips. He was impressed.

"I always listen," Anders answered.

Karl shook his head, returning his attention to the book, a faint smile still touching his lips. He finished reading the spell, and then set the book aside, still opened to the relevant page. 

"Look, let's try this..." he held out his hand, mumbled a few words under his breath, and a faint green light shone before his hands, growing stronger the longer he held onto it, as his magic surged. "This wisp... charges your power. It makes you stronger. Now, let me show you how..." Karl said, dismissing the wisp, which danced around his fingers and fluttered into the air, like a dragon fly, before collapsing into a cloud of smoke and disappearing altogether. He reached for Anders hand. 

"Are you sure?" Anders asked.

"About what?" Karl asked, a little startled.

"Teaching me. I'm not as strong or... disciplined, as you."

Who knew what the Enchanters said about him behind his back. He had heard them whispering. He knew they thought he could not control his magic, that he was dangerous, that he was a risk. Karl on the other hand... Karl was always in control. He could be confident, he could be sure of himself and his abilities, because his spells never went awry. Anders was always struggling to keep his spells from slipping out of his hands and taking on a life of their own, once he'd summoned up a bolt of lightning or a burst of flames.

"You're stronger than you know. Just follow my lead."

Karl guided his arm out in front of him, and placed his other hand on Anders' shoulder. He mouthed the words of the spell slowly, drawing out each syllable, and Anders repeated him, word for word, watching his lips. His hands began to glow and shimmer bright blue with power. Karl pulled away slightly, still holding Anders' arm, still grounding him, and watched. "There you go! Keep holding. Don't let go."

Anders found the magic glowing warm, safe, inside himself, and held onto it, but he was not focusing on his spell, or his hands, or what he was doing anymore. He was too distracted by his tutor, and the touch of his hands, their warmth, his proximity, his lips... he frowned and lost whatever remaining thread was holding him to the spell. The light he was trying to harness disappeared. Karl let go of him and crossed his arms. His head sunk, disappointed, and Anders drew back his hand.

"I'm sorry I lost it. Can you tell me the spell again?"

He had already forgotten the words.

"You need to focus! Pay attention!" Karl chided.

"I know, I know... my head isn't on right..." Anders mumbled, wishing he had a better excuse.

Karl went quiet, considered him, tilting his head to one side.

"No? Well, maybe we can try again some other time..."

Anders hated disappointing Karl. He knew Karl blamed himself when his lessons went awry, and never his students, but it was entirely Anders fault this time, not his. Karl was a wonderful teacher. He was patient, and thoughtful, and gentle, and... Anders took his arm, urgently, willed the other boy to meet his eyes. He did.

"No, we can try again right now! Just give me the spell."

Karl sighed and reluctantly nodded. He made a gesture with his hand to signify they could try again. He told Anders the spell clearly and slowly, and Anders echoed him word for word, until his palm burst with blue translucent flames, coursing through his body; a warmth that was strangely comforting even as it tore through his blood and made him shudder. He was trembling and smiling the moment his eyes locked on the wisp, dancing before him, and he realised it had worked. He had summoned a wisp, a piece of the Fade! He turned to Karl, expecting a look of approval, may even applause, but there was still so much sadness in his eyes, and his mouth was open. He looked surprised. They were already seated side-by-side on the small balcony, with precious little space between them, but Ander pressed closer all the same, lowering his voice.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Anders, you're glowing!"

He looked down at his hands. His palms shimmered blue, and tendrils of blue light wove their way up his arms. 

"I'm a wizard," Anders reminded him. "Don't we all glow?"

"No, you're... unique. I always suspected you were... unique. One of a kind." Anders smiled, flustered. Karl stretched his arm forward and cupped the side of Anders face in his hand. His fingers were cold to the touch. Anders' stomach tensed. Karl still held his gaze, refusing to blink. "You're beautiful, Anders!"

Anders brought up his hand to cover Karl's. His heart skipped a beat.

"I'm not... special, don't exaggerate..." Karl's gesture, like his words, was comforting, but foreign. He was not used to tenderness. There was never any time for 'tenderness' in the Circle, the Templars made sure of that. You could find company in the Circle, sure, and everyone was sleeping with everyone, but you missed out on little things, little gestures that mean the world to someone who hardly knows them, like holding hands or a pat on the back or a reassuring kiss to the forehead. Not the sort of hurried, breathless kiss you are begrudgingly given in a wardrobe, with a girl who is counting the seconds until the guard makes his rounds. The games apprentices played were devoid of suspense; it was just another form of ritual to them like any other.

"I lied, before, when I said I didn't wish for impossible things. Ever since I saw the poor renegade mage from the Anderfels with tangled blonde hair and amber eyes they dragged in here, kicking and screaming because he was so in love with a freedom I have never known, but always wanted... I have wished, and prayed, for someone like you," Karl said. He leaned forward to kiss him, but their lips had barely brushed before Anders started back, startled and confused. 

"What are you doing?!" He asked. This was not what he wanted—not now, anyway, not like this. Daydreaming was fine. Daydreaming was _safe_. Why did Karl have to go and ruin the dream, now? He was not ready to wake up and face the reality of what this meant.

"Kissing you. I would have thought that was clear," Karl said, removing his hand at once and pulling back.

"I know what you're doing— _but why?_ " He went on.

"I thought you wanted me to? Maybe I misread your signals..."

"That's it! That must be it! Just a simple misunderstanding! Nothing to lose sleep over!" Anders laughed nervously. "You didn't think I invited you here, alone, just so we...? Oh no. How long has this been going on?" He was speaking very quickly now. Karl regarded him with narrowed eyes. He had once been slapped for drunkenly kissing someone who did not want to be kissed, and had been rejected plenty of times, by plenty of people, but Anders' reaction was... confusing, to say the least. He could have simply said 'no thanks, I want to be friends,' and Karl would have gone along with it, or agreed to keep his distance if Anders no longer wanted to be friends, but this...? How was he supposed to respond to this?

"It hasn't gone anywhere yet," Karl answered with a heavy sigh. 

"Did you really think _I_...? And you?!"

"Look, if you're not interested, that's fine! I won't mention it again. We can pretend it never happened."

"No, no, no! Au contraire! Let's mention it again! It needs to be mentioned. I'm not offended, if that's what you think! I know I'm a catch! I've left a string of sweethearts throughout Thedas. It's all the running away that does it. I've become an irresistible anti-hero, an outlaw apostate... women love that," he insisted.

Karl scratched his neck.

"I'm sure they do."

He remembered Anders mentioning a boy not that long ago. It was an honest mistake to presume...

"I bet women like you. Big strong mage, dark eyes, low... rough... gravelly voice..."

"I wouldn't know. I prefer the company of men."

"I don't have anything against that! I've never... I never... thought about it, really..."

That was a lie, to begin with. He had given it a lot of thought lately. It was not the fact Karl was a boy that bothered him. It was the fact he liked Karl too much, and he knew if he was not careful, he would fall in love, and try as he might, he could not imagine a future where they could be together. Dreams were the only safe place for them. The real world was full of Templars.

"You're staring again," Karl reminded him.

"I can't help it. This is new."

"Well if you're done, I'd better go—" Karl moved to his feet, and stepped over Anders, who stood between him and the window which had acted as their door.

"No, wait! Don't go!" Anders called out, leaping to his feet. _I don't want to lose you,_ he nearly said, but bit back the words. That sounded too much like caring, and he was not supposed to.

"It's for the best. I should never have said anything. Now you won't be able to trust me, and I'll know it's my fault for acting without thinking." 

"I do trust you! Show me another spell. Please. I'm learning so much. We can still be friends, can't we?" Anders asked with a hopeful smile before Karl had passed through the window, abandoning him for good. That was the last thing Anders wanted. Karl gave a heavy sigh, turned around, and walked back to where Anders stood. He pointed to the ground, and they both sat down side by side, as they had before. He taught Anders a new spell, explaining it slowly, step by step, and Anders watched, entranced, like a kitten by a new toy, repeating each step.


End file.
